


Shards and Shells

by FayJay



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, And I have some thoughts on how that relates to the Greens, And the Pern Universe is hella sketchy wrt consent when it comes to dragons mating, Consent Issues, Dragons, Fusion, Given that the Greens are considerably smaller than all the male dragons who pursue them, M/M, Which is a markedly different dynamic from the situations with the Gold dragons and the Bronzes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayJay/pseuds/FayJay
Summary: So Bonibaru said:"Where is the Pern AU in which WWX's sleek black dragon, outcast among his kind for his colour and intelligence, ends up the one to entwine LWJ's great golden queen in a mating flight so intense it's sung about Weyrwide for generations to come (never where small children can hear)?"...and apparently teenage McCaffrey-fan me felt like this was an excellent idea, and worth interrupting the other WIPs I'm currently working on to have a quick scribble at. So, uh - yeah. Pern AU, basically, because dragons yay?BELATEDLY, A WARNING:I have no particular plans for how (or if!) I’m going to write sex scenes, but if you are going to lose your shit over who tops and who bottoms, just - do yourself a favour and don’t read anything I write?Kthxby.
Relationships: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, Lan XiChen/Meng Yao
Comments: 437
Kudos: 1034





	1. Hatching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bonibaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonibaru/gifts), [kimboo_york](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimboo_york/gifts).



The sands of the hatching ground are blisteringly hot beneath Wei Ying’s boots, but he doesn’t care; his very soul is thrumming like a guqin’s plucked string, quivering with tension and desperate readiness as every speck of attention he has is focussed upon the eggs before them, waiting for the first quiver and crack. The other candidates are equally attentive: several dozen boys from various weyrs clad in Gusu Weyr whites, and a handful of girls, equally hopeful, whose eyes are mostly directed at the great golden Queen egg sitting in pride of place. 

“Pick me, pick me, pick me.” Wei Ying doesn’t think that Jiang Cheng even realises he’s whispering this out loud; in any other circumstances he wouldn’t be able to resist teasing his brother, but right now he can only find it in him to agree wholeheartedly. The air is throbbing with the sound of the adult dragons’ raised voices, and a susurration of human voices from the viewing area, but all of the candidates - bar Jiang Cheng’s sotto voce chant - are united in silent yearning. 

The day before, they were laughing together. Wei Ying had talked Nie Huaisang into joining him and Jiang Cheng in a couple of jars of Emperor’s Smile, and the world had seemed full of bright possibilities...right up until the Second Jade of Lan had appeared, beautiful as moonlit ice but grave-faced and disapproving, reciting the various Weyr Rules that they were currently breaking. Wei Ying still doesn’t know quite how he succeeded in convincing Lan Wangji to join them in a drink; he _does_ know now why the Lans usually eschew alcohol, however, because he can’t recall ever seeing anyone become incapacited with quite such speed or finality. Waking up to find the Second Jade of Lan in his bed, with his head ribbon askew, had been enough to make Wei Ying laugh forever - or it would have been, had he not swiftly found himself being beaten as punishment, with Lan Wangji unsmiling and straight-backed beside him. 

And now here they all are, arrayed in the sand in bright Gusu Weyr whites, each desperately hoping that one of the great eggs before them might contain their future. 

Surely no dragon will pick Lan Wangji? He’s so stiff-necked and rule-bound and joyless, and dragons are creatures of passion, so everyone says. No doubt the Second Jade of Lan has many admirable qualities, but everyone knows that dragons can read your heart, and they reach out for warmth and strong emotion. Wei Ying spares the pale-faced Lan Wangji a dubious glance for a moment, before turning his attention back to the eggs. He wants a Bronze, of course - who wouldn’t? - but at this moment he realises that he would be blissfully happy with the humblest little Green or Blue. The prospect of being one of the surplus boys left to return home unchosen while his dazzled friends stare into the eyes of their newly-hatched companions, overwhelmed with love and belonging...well. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So - a Bronze would be wonderful, but Wei Ying will be grateful to whichever dragon imprints upon him. 

It is with some difficulty that he restrains himself from chanting “Pick me pick me pick me” just like Jiang Cheng.

The first egg to hatch is one of the smaller ones. Watching the shell slowly crack and shatter as the infant dragon valiantly forces her way out into the world feels almost holy; when she finally slithers out of her shell the little green creature is the most beautiful thing Wei Ying has ever seen. How could he have ever imagined that it would be anything other than an absolute joy to impress a Green? He clenches his fists at his side and gazes adoringly at the dragonet as she stumbles uncertainly towards the boys, trying to will her to choose him.

In vain - she may still be figuring out how to make her legs work, but the little creature is moving with great determination and not towards Wei Ying: her attention is all directed at Nie Huaisang, and she’s making some urgent crooning noises as she picks her way towards him. His face lights up with astonishment and joy when she bumps into him, and Wei Ying is conscious of a terrible rush of envy. Nie Huaisang makes a soft, punched-out sound and sinks to his knees as the little Green lurches up to him, his expression thunderstruck and naked in a way that makes Wei Ying simultaneously embarrassed and intensely, painfully jealous. He meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes and sees the same envy burning there, then drags his attention back to the unhatched eggs; he tries to blot out the burble of sounds Nie Huaisang is making, dazed and joyful, as he feeds the dragonet and tells her how perfect and precious she is. Instead Wei Ying directs his attention fiercely at the unhatched eggs, willing one of them, any of them, to hold his own soulmate. 

The second dragonet to hatch is a Blue, its scales glinting the colour of the darkest winter seas; it too is beautiful in a way that Wei Ying has no defense against, and it too ignores him utterly, to impress upon a shocky-eyed boy whose name Wei Ying doesn’t even know - some Lan cousin or other, judging from the headband. Wei Ying glances at Lan Wangji automatically to see how he takes being beaten to the punch by some minor Lan relative, and he is taken aback by the soft look on the other boy’s face. He looks suddenly touchable and human and fragile in a way that Wei Ying had not realised he was capable of being. 

The next dragonet is another Green, a lighter shade than the first, more like the colour of sunlight streaming through new leaves; she too ignores Wei Ying entirely.

Madam Yu has told Wei Ying repeatedly and at length that he is too arrogant. He has _tried_ to be humble, and in some ways he truly is, but he has always been aware of his own abilities, and it’s true enough that many of the things that others find difficult have always come easily to him. Despite his nerves he had still more than half expected that this would be true here in the Hatching Grounds too - had not seriously believed that he could fail to impress a dragon, and had more or less assumed that it would be one of the great Bronzes - or at least a Brown. He is ready to fight thread, and he has always assumed...but as egg after egg hatches, and none of the dragonets give him a second glance, a terrible fear begins to creep into his bones. Surely it is not possible that he will be one of the discards left on the sand amidst the shattered shards of eggshell when all the hatchlings have found their humans? Madam Yu had taunted him with that prospect, but he had not believed it in his heart of hearts - that he might be left standing alone, found inadequate after all, with pitying glances scalding him worse than mockery ever could?

He swallows hard as a sturdy little Bronze toddles up to Jiang Cheng, snuffling and nuzzling and snapping at the edges of his white robes, and Jiang Cheng wraps his arms around the little creature’s neck and sobs into its hide in joy and relief. A part of Wei Ying is sincerely delighted for his brother, who had been so furiously afraid of being overlooked - Jiang Cheng deserves this, and the cheers ringing out from the stands show that Yunmeng Weyr is fully cognizant of this victory and will be celebrating well into the small hours. Wei Ying _is _happy for him, truly - but he is also bitterly jealous in a way he has never been before about the honours and privileges that Jiang Cheng has always held as the son of a Weyrleader. To think he had once thought a Green would be a disappointment! Wei Ying’s whole being is yearning helplessly towards the remaining eggs, hoping against hope that one of them will be his.__

__But who is he to be jealous, after all? Madam Yu has reminded him often enough that he’s lucky to be raised alongside her children, when he’s the son of an oddity: Cangse Sanren was one of the very rare female Blue riders, and her husband, Wei Ying’s father, was no dragonrider at all. But still, Wei Ying has always felt sure that one day he would follow in her footsteps, flying against Thread and helping to protect the villagers. Perhaps he should have been bracing himself all this time for the possibility that he would prove to be more his father’s son._ _

__The dragons’ musical humming swells louder, changing in pitch, and there are shouts from the crowd as the Queen egg begins to quiver and rock. Wei Ying spares half his attention for this treasure of Gusu Weyr, wondering whether Jiang Yanli might impress the Queen after all - but his heart is still wholly focussed upon the two remaining eggs which might yet be for him. He knows that his shijie doubts her own chances, but he loyally thinks any dragon would be lucky to be united with Jiang Yanli; on the other hand, the prospect of her flying into threadfall horrifies him, so he doesn’t know quite what to wish for._ _

__The other two eggs remain stubbornly still upon the sands: one very large indeed - surely a Bronze - and one very small; sometimes dragonets die in the egg, of course, but Wei Ying will not let himself believe that the world could be so cruel as to let two of the hatchlings die before they leave the shell. He stares at them, trying to will the little creatures to join their siblings; after a moment, though, he lets his attention be drawn over to the Queen egg once more._ _

__She has successfully chipped away a section of the shell and is glowering out through the hole now; when she finally scrambles out onto the sand, her little eyes whirling with anger and frustration, Wei Ying feels a desperate heart-clenching rush of tenderness for the fierce little thing. She’s markedly bigger than even the Bronzes already, and her waddling gait is a comically tiny echo of her mother’s predatory prowl. The girls are all eyeing her with a blend of hope and dread - they’re a respectable group of maidens, and even the ones who actively want to take on the responsibility and power involved in being a Queen’s rider must have mixed feelings about being tied to whichever Bronze rider flies their Queen. Wei Ying tries to imagine how he would feel about Jiang Yanli being forced to lie with some random Bronze rider just because his beast is the fastest and strongest, regardless of whether he likes or respects her, and for a moment the impulse to punch something is overwhelming. But this is the way of things, and it has been thus for centuries. One must be pragmatic._ _

__He glances back at the two remaining eggs, and is transfixed by the sight of the smaller one suddenly cracking open, neat as a nut; a tiny green dragon bursts out blinking, and Wei Ying finds himself falling in love for the tenth time that morning. Her hide is jewel-bright, and as she shakes her wings free and stretches them tentatively, Wei Ying has to forcibly prevent himself from reaching out towards her. He feels like all the protective layers over his heart have been peeled back this morning, one after another, and now all that is left of him is this naked, tender thing desperate to love and be loved, and blankly terrified of being left alone. He could be enough for this little beauty, surely?_ _

__Out of the corner of his eye he catches a shiver of movement: Lan Wangji is still standing too, straight-backed and unchosen, with an expression as vulnerable as Wei Ying fears his own must be right now. There are seven boys remaining on the sand - surely the others cannot all be better candidates than Wei Ying?_ _

__The little Green swings her head around, sniffing and blinking as if searching for something precious and familiar, then she comes stumbling towards him, and for a moment his heart lifts, exhilarated and joyous - and then she barges right past him, and past Lan Wangji, and heads out to the stands._ _

__“What the…” says Wei Ying, meeting Lan Wangji’s startled gaze for a moment before looking around over his shoulder to see what on earth the tiny Green is doing. She’s making plaintive little noises of distress and pawing at the barrier that separates the Hatching Grounds from the audience now, and the volume of conversation in the crowd is swelling with astonished speculation. “Who is she after?” he mutters, astonished and indignant at being ignored so comprehensively, but then he becomes aware of another uproar and drags his attention sideways to the little Queen._ _

__Who, it appears, is equally unimpressed by the array of candidates standing before her, and has rejected the lot of them._ _

__This is serious. Bad enough for a Green to fail to impress: for a Queen to fail to bond with a rider would be unthinkable. Even with all his heart tangled up with his own worries at this moment, Wei Ying is enough of a Weyr brat to feel a flush of visceral horror at the prospect of this most precious dragonet going unpartnered, and, inevitably, dying as a result. He swallows, glancing around at the others on the sand, and sees his own distress mirrored in the other faces. Jiang Yanli shoots him a despairing look._ _

__“Come on, somebody do something!” he says, feeling helpless as the little Queen barges angrily through the assembled maidens, swiping at them with her claws and making angry, plaintive, large-sharp-toothed-baby-predator noises of distress that tug at his heart._ _

__“Useless!” says Lan Wangji beside him, looking equally frustrated, and then the little dragonet stumbles and falls down, making a terribly woeful sound, and the Second Jade of Lan is swooping across the sand in spite of himself and helping her to her feet, careless of claws and teeth - and then he’s freezing quite still, staring astonished into her whirling eyes as the angry oranges and yellows bleed into the blue and green of pleasure and contentment._ _

__“No,” gasps Wei Ying, echoing astonished cries and gasps that are already filling the chamber. “ _No way._ ”_ _

__Queens always impress upon girls. Always. But…_ _

__“Her name is Bichen,” Lan Wangji says, his voice gone rough and shocked and breathy, his fingers flexing on the bright golden shoulders, and, yes, holy shit, this really is happening. The Second Jade of Lan has really gone and impressed a goddamn Queen._ _

__Wei Wuxian’s jaw has dropped open at some point; he’s trying not to feel bitterly jealous, but not entirely succeeding. Wei Ying has never felt anything like the shattered look of joy on Lan Wangji’s face, but he _wants_ it more than he can say._ _

__Behind him, in the stands, another uproar; Wei Ying spares one more woeful glance for the last remaining unhatched egg and then looks out to see what has happened with the little Green._ _

__She has somehow managed to scramble her way into the stands where the Qinghe Weyr folk are seated, and people have scattered as if from a fire as she totters through the tumbled chairs, making plaintive little sounds of misery. Weyrleader Nie Mingjue is glowering down at the candidates on the sands with an expression of intense disapproval, but Wei Ying doesn’t know what on earth the man is expecting them to do about it - the dragonet has rejected them all as clear as day, and is evidently after someone in the stands._ _

__Nie Huaisang’s too-pretty little dimpled retainer with the fayre of firelizards is watching the dragonet’s progress with an expression of growing distress from behind Nie Mingjue’s shoulder; when she eventually sits down on her haunches and lets out a woebegone sort of howl his composure cracks completely and he scurries down towards her._ _

__“Meng Yao!” cries Nie Mingjue, looking startled, but the young man ignores him and sinks down onto his knees to reassure the little creature...and then rocks back on his heels with that now-familiar expression of astonished joy widening his eyes and parting his lips._ _

__And there it is, another one impressed ahead of Wei Ying._ _

__He’s going to be one of the discards._ _

__Wei Ying turns back to the last egg. Surely it’s too large and healthy looking to be still born? He glances at the handful of other boys still standing on the sands, shifting from foot to foot, and clenches his hands into fists._ _

__“Come on,” he whispers, his voice breaking, wanting this more desperately than he can remember wanting anything since the moment he finally realised that his mother was truly not coming back. “ _Please?_ ”_ _

__Somebody is clasping his arm; he glances to the side and recognises Jiang Yanli, watery-eyed._ _

__“A Xian,” she says softly. “I don’t think…”_ _

__“No,” he says, before she can complete that thought. “It’s alive. I know it’s alive.”_ _

__She bites her lip. “A Xian, perhaps…”_ _

__“No, Shijie,” he says. He can wait all day and night if need be. It’s okay if his dragon wants to take its time. He isn’t in a hurry._ _

__“It’s all right, A Xian,” she says, softly. “There’s always next time.”_ _

__“No.” He swallows. “I can wait.”_ _

__“Love…” her voice trails off and she squeezes his arm. He’s about to say something, but then the last egg quivers, and his whole body tenses in response as a single crack shivers its way down the side of the shell._ _

__“See!” he says, his heart racing. “See! He’s alive!”_ _

__Jiang Yanli hovers at his shoulder, but Wei Ying’s whole world has narrowed down to the shape of the great egg - almost as large as the Queen’s had been - that is now rocking and shuddering on the sand._ _

__“Come on, you beauty,” he whispers, wishing he could help. “Come on, my darling, I know you can do it.”_ _

__All the remaining boys - and a couple of the girls - have closed in around the last egg now, by unspoken agreement. Wei Ying is sure they’re all wearing expressions much like his own: desperate, yearning, their hearts in their eyes. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if the dragonet picks someone else. He can’t let himself believe in that possibility. He won’t know how to live like that, as though his whole heart has been cored right away…_ _

__There’s yet another shocked susurration when the egg splits open and the dragonet spills out onto the sand, and the other would-be dragonriders all take a step back. Wei Ying does not move a muscle._ _

__“What?” says Jiang Yanli from somewhere far away. “How…?”_ _

__Because the last dragonet is ink-black. Ink-black and perfect, from the tip of his snout to the curled talons on his toes, his eyes whirling in an iridescent chaos of colours as he takes his first breaths of fresh air and tests his new-minted limbs._ _

__There are no black dragons. The weyrs have a strict hierarchy built around colour, and there have never, ever, in all the annals of all the weyrs, been any black dragons._ _

__Wei Ying is transfixed. He had felt like he was falling in love with each hatchling, his heart flayed bare, but _this_ , this is something beyond all of that. The dragonet is long limbed and sturdy, its wet wings snapping and stretching in the warm air, and its eyes are fixed upon him as though he is the only thing worth looking at in all the world. He takes a hesitant step forward, and then gasps as he feels a sensation for which he has no words - a gentle, intangible touch like a breeze brushing lightly against the surface of his mind, and somehow he hears a voice that he feels like he’s known his whole life whispering hope and trust and devotion into his very soul._ _

__Wei Ying reaches out with a shaking hand to stroke the delicate eye ridge on the side of the dragonet’s face and says “Suibian!” in a shaking voice thick with wonder. “His name is Suibian.”_ _


	2. Sand

Wei YIng sees Jiang Fengmian briefly just after the Hatching; his adopted father shakes his hand, his eyes skittering away from the black dragon, and for a moment Wei Ying has a feeling that - but then Jiang Yanli is crying into his shoulder and telling him to be good, and promising to visit and make him his favourite soup, and he’s briefly distracted from his focus on Suibian by the realisation that his life really is on the brink of changing utterly. He is no longer Wei Wuxian of Yunmeng Weyr - now he and Jiang Cheng are both members of Gusu Weyr, and if - when - they return to Lotus Pier it will only be as guests.

Madam Yu does not visit to make her goodbyes; Wei Ying assumes that she is with Jiang Cheng, and although the casual disrespect stings a little, he doesn’t miss her glowers or her barbed comments. He hopes that she was able, for once, to find some words of pride and praise for Jiang Cheng, because whatever she says will certainly be taken to heart and treated like holy writ - and surely not even Madam Yu can find cause for complaint now? Jiang Cheng impressed a fine, healthy young Bronze - the very first Bronze to hatch, in fact. 

Wei Ying watches Jiang Fengmian and his shijie leave at last, JIang Yanli peered back wet-eyed over his shoulder and then he returns to Suibian’s side.

* * * 

For the first few days Wei Ying doesn’t really notice anything wrong. Those days pass by in a whirl of sleepless devotion, Wei YIng’s world contracting to a neverending cycle of tasks ensuring that Suibian eats, sleeps, defecates, bathes and eats again, and in the pauses between he’s forever rubbing oil into the dragonet’s hide as the little creature grows by leaps and bounds. Within days Suibian has doubled his size, and he shows no sign of slowing down.

So between all the physical labour and the emotional intoxication of having a newly-formed telepathic bond with a creature that adores him utterly, Wei YIng does not have much time or inclination to think about what anyone else in the Weyr is doing, or thinking.

In the weeks leading up to the Hatching, Wei Ying and the other candidates had read and written and recited the Gusu Weyr rules and procedures often enough that Wei Ying feels like he really should be absolutely ready to care for his dragonet. He had spent enough time at Yunmeng Weyr watching and helping and nagging the adult dragonriders too - there shouldn’t be any part of impressing a dragon that comes as a real surprise. And yet it turns out that there is a big difference between abstract knowledge and visceral knowledge. It’s one thing to know the meaning of words like ‘love’ and ‘trust’ and ‘need’, but it’s something else altogether to actually _feel_ these emotions. Wei Ying had not been prepared at all for the way that Suibian instantly took up residence in his heart, the way that Suibian’s slightest sorrow or frustration would cut him to the quick. He had not understood how _raw_ and helpless he would feel, how minor all his prior priorities would appear in the light of this new, all encompassing love. He thinks, perhaps, that this is how a parent must feel towards their newborn: like the whole world has been remade, and everything is suddenly reframed in terms of how it might help or harm one’s beloved.

So - it’s understandable, with all this on his mind, that it takes Wei Ying a little while to notice what’s going on around him. 

The first time he realises that there is, perhaps, a problem, is when he takes Suibian down to the bathing pool at the same time that several of the other dragons and dragonets are there with their riders. He waves at Jiang Cheng, busy scrubbing the hide of his bronze, and at first Wei Ying is too focused on Suibian to really register the sidelong looks or whispers. The sunlight on Suibian’s hide pulls an iridescent glitter of colours out of the blackness like the soapbubble sheen on spilled oil, or the glint of a dragonfly’s wing, and Suibian is luxuriating in the warm lick of sunbeams like some great oversized cat, gone loose-limbed and playful in a way that makes Wei Ying’s heart expand almost painfully. His dragon is exquisite, and innocent in the way of all infant creatures despite his viciously sharp teeth and claws. For the hundredth time Wei Ying feels a rush of incredulity that the world has gifted him with this extraordinary creature; he is quietly terrified that he doesn’t deserve Suibian, and that at some point Lan Qiren will march up to announce that there has been some kind of mix up, and that _actually_ Suibian was supposed to be paired up with the scion of some powerful family, like Jiang Yanli’s fiance, that peacock Jin Zixuan. How can something so pristine and perfect be tied for life to the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and a servant?

“Freak.”

He doesn’t understand at first. Doesn’t connect the hissed sliver of sound with Suibian, because Suibian is fine and flawless. But Jiang Cheng, closer to the source of the sound, reacts as though somebody has just called Madam Yu a whore: he catapults away from his dragon’s side to grab the young Blue rider by the scruff of the neck and tumble to the ground in a snarling scuffle of limbs and curses while Wei Ying looks on in utter bafflement, and the assembled dragons grumble and bridle. Jiang Cheng’s great Bronze dragonet, Sandu, looms over the little Blue, baring all his teeth and spreading his wings to make himself look bigger, and the Blue is making frightened little pleading noises and baring its throat and belly in an unmistakable placating gesture - and for a moment Wei Ying thinks that the bronze is going to ignore the show of submission and actually tear into the little creature - but then Lan Xichen sweeps in, and at the same moment his great Bronze Shuoyue is sidling in between the two dragonets and making soothing noises. The little Blue flips hurriedly back onto its feet and scuttles around behind Shuoyue as fast as its little feet will carry it, while Lan Xichen physically separates Jiang Cheng from the dishevelled Blue rider.

Wei Ying watches, wide-eyed, scrubbing Suibian’s hide absent-mindedly with a handful of sand while he tries to understand what just happened. He catches a stir of movement and turns to see Lan Wangji and his great golden dragonet following cautiously in Lan Xichen’s wake. The little Queen is already bigger than some of the adult Greens; in the sunlight her hide is a variegated mosaic of amber and caramel and cream and copper, bright and lovely against the backdrop of the mountains. Lan Wanji stands very close to her, his hand resting against her wedge-shaped head and a grave expression on his jade-pale face. He is, Wei Ying reflects, every bit as beautiful as his dragon - Nie Huaisang had been absolutely right about that. And not, perhaps, quite as chilly and uncaring as he likes to appear - not if this most precious of dragons recognised him as her soul mate. Wei Ying catches Lan Wangji’s eye and waves, feeling a foolishly broad smile breaking out across his face automatically. 

“Lan Zhan!” he calls, and then wonders what prompted him to abandon courtesy like that - but it feels right, somehow; and after all, they’re family of a sort now, aren’t they, since their dragons are from the same clutch? “Lan Zhan, are you joining us? How is Bichen? She’s growing so big and strong already! And such a beauty!”

Lan Wangji looks startled, and does something subtle and faintly disapproving with his face which Wei Ying takes to mean that they should both be paying attention to Jiang Cheng at this moment. He shrugs, and glances back to where Lan Xichen has hold of both boys, an expression of disappointment on his handsome face. 

“This is not the behaviour we expect from dragonriders in Gusu Weyr,” he says. “You bring shame upon the weyrs that trained you by resorting to such conduct.”

“He started it!” snaps the Blue rider - for the life of him, Wei Ying cannot remember the boy’s name. Someone from Koi Tower, perhaps? “He just attacked me, completely unprovoked!”

Jiang Cheng’s face hardens and he starts to lunge at the other boy again, and then visibly forces himself to be still. “It was not unprovoked,” he says, through gritted teeth. 

Lan Xichen lifts one eyebrow; he does not look impressed.

“Whatever the provocation may have been, Jiang Wanyin, your dragons did not deserve this,” he says, and although his voice is quiet, Jiang Cheng flinches. He glances back at Sandu, shame-faced; the dragonet is now nonchalantly gnawing at the space between his spread claws as though he had absolutely nothing to do with the tussle that had just broken out.

“Every dragon is precious, for their own sake and because they are all so vital in the fight against Thread,” says Lan Xichen, softly. “We cannot afford to have them fighting among themselves simply because their riders cannot control their emotions. We expect better of you both.”

Jiang Cheng and the Blue rider both look thoroughly chastened, their eyes downcast and their shoulders slumped. Lan Xichen surveys them measuringly.

“Yes, Shige,” says Jiang Cheng hoarsely. 

Lan Xichen seems to consider for a long moment. “Well, I know that you must all be exhausted, and everyone is perhaps a little highly strung at present. You have been working every hour to care for your dragonets, and sometimes passions can run high. I shall not, on this occasion, send messages to Koi Tower or Lotus Pier to notify your families of this regrettable incident. If you will make your apologies to one another and end this matter here and now, I am prepared to overlook it.” His brows lower. “This time.”

Wei Ying blinks at the prospect of any Lan’s passions running high; any Lan having passions at all, come to that.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow, but after a heartbeat he bows to the other boy, tight-lipped. The Blue rider’s mouth twitches briefly into something like a smirk as he returns the bow, and the two of them separate. 

Wei Ying finds himself meeting Lan Wangji’s eyes for a moment, although he doesn’t know quite what made him look that way, and he has no idea how to read the expression on the other boy’s face. He offers him a grin anyway, and although Lan Wangji - Lan _Zhan_ \- looks a little startled, and doesn’t smile back, he thinks some of the tension seeps out of his body. Wei Ying winks at him, then turns his attention back to his brother.

“Jiang Cheng!” he says, sidling over to his side as Lan Xichen returns to Lan Zhan and the rest of the dragonriders subside once more into hushed conversations with one another or silent ones with their dragons. “What on earth was that about?”

Jiang Cheng shoots him an incredulous look that morphs into something stricken. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then says “Nothing.”

Wei Ying stares. Jiang Cheng ignores his gaze and scoops up a handful of sand, for all the world as if that’s that. 

“Come on, Didi, that wasn’t ‘nothing’!” protests Wei Ying, half laughing. “Who is he? What did he do to annoy you?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “That’s Jin Zixun - we met him before, don’t you remember? The peacock’s cousin? And - and I don’t like his face, that’s all.”

“You don’t like his face,” echoed Wei Wuxian flatly.

 _”Your brother was angry because the other boy insulted me,”_ says Suibian calmly, his voice a cool shiver of music prickling through Wei Ying’s mind.

Wei Ying freezes, then looks across at Jin Zixun with a rush of pure fury. “What did he...oh.”

He remembers now. ‘Freak.’ It was so unthinkable a word to associate with Suibian that Wei Ying had completely failed to make the connection. Now it hits him like a hammerblow, and for a moment all he can think of is violence and vengeance. Jiang Cheng is on him before he has taken more than a couple of paces, his hands locked around Wei Ying’s arms, holding him in place.

“Don’t, Gege,” he says quietly, and Wei Ying blinks. “Don’t give that little shit the satisfaction. He’s jealous, that’s all.”

Wei Ying laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound. “Is this truly Jiang Cheng cautioning someone against fighting? Will wonders never cease?”

“Please, A Xian,” Jiang Cheng says, softly. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me. _You_ shouldn’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.” 

Wei Ying stares unblinking over at Jin Zixun, struggling for calm, and Suibian startles him by brushing his heavy, wedge-shaped head up against Wei Ying’s side and huffing out a snorting breath. 

“ _It doesn’t matter,”_ says Suibian, sublimely unconcerned - and the fact that his dragon sincerely could not care less about anything Jin Zixun might have to say helps sooth Wei Ying more than any words could have done. He rubs Suibian’s eye ridge idly and drags his gaze away from the distant Blue rider; as he does so, another glint of light draws his attention back to the little Queen splashing in the water and he feels a little more calm spill into his soul at the sight. Lan Zhan has doffed his outer robes and is up to his knees in the water, scrubbing methodically at Bichen’s hide with a handful of sand, to the dragonet’s evident delight. 

“The Harpers are already singing songs about this Hatching,” says Jiang Cheng, following his gaze. “The Second Jade of Lan impressing a Queen, and Nie Mingjue’s retainer being picked out of the stands by that little Green, and...well.”

Wei Ying glances at him askance, and then a heartbeat later realises what he means.

“The world’s first Black Dragon,” he says, smiling with pride he can’t contain. 

“Indeed,” says Jiang Cheng, cautiously. “It was a day of wonders.” He glances back at Lan Zhan and frowns. “I’m sorry for them, though.”

Wei Ying looks at him quizzically. “Why?”

“Well - Lan Xichen cannot be the next Weyrleader now, of course, and that’s all their plans and expectations cast adrift.”

“But wh...oh. No, I see what you mean.” Wei Ying blanches. Lan Xichen is the very model of a Weyr leader, and if it weren’t for the one very obvious problem, he and Lan Zhan would surely make an excellent pair of leaders for Gusu Weyr. Wei Ying frowns. “I suppose he’ll have to leave before her first flight,” he says, glancing at Bichen. Lan Zhan must feel terrible about this; Lan Qiren must be _furious_ about it. “Oh - _poor_ Lan Zhan,” he says, without thinking, and Jiang Cheng shoots him a startled glance. Wei Ying follows his train of thought a little further, and starts to blush. “But that means that you, or…” he glances over at the other Bronze riders scattered around the bathing pool, and then over at Lan Zhan, and swallows. Abruptly a rush of emotions very similar to the ones he felt about Jiang Yanli having to lie with some random Bronze rider crashes over him. He meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes and then they both look away awkwardly..

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he admits, feeling rather stupid. His thoughts over the past few days have all been entirely about Suibian.

“I have,” says Jiang Cheng in a scratchy voice; when Wei Ying looks up, his brother is flushing. 

“Oh,” says Wei Ying blankly. He has no idea how to feel; he thinks he probably _shouldn’t_ feel indignant on Lan Zhan’s behalf, let alone feel like punching people. “You’d - you’d make a good Weyr leader,” he says, after a moment, because it’s true, although his imagination is balking at the thought of Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan...doing _that_.

Jiang Cheng looks thoroughly uncomfortable. “I don’t - uh,” he says, pulling a face. “I never thought…” His eyes skitter back to Lan Zhan, and he bites his lip. The flush on his cheeks deepens. Wei Ying follows his gaze; the white undergarments are clinging wetly to Lan Zhan’s calves.

“Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong,” says Wei Ying, feeling oddly hollow. “Lan Zhan is ...he’s very beautiful, and...and a paragon.”

“He should have impressed a Bronze,” says Jiang Cheng, sounding guilty. “Everyone was so sure…”

Wei Ying pulls a face. “I didn’t think he was going to impress any dragon at all,” he admits, feeling foolish all over again. “I thought...he always seemed so stiff-necked and unemotional. Such a cold fish. I thought…” He watches the way that Bichen leans in luxuriantly while Lan Zhan scritches her shoulder blade; he can’t drag his gaze away from Lan Zhan’s profile. How had he missed that soft look in his eyes, or the way his mouth curls into a lopsided little smile that’s unexpectedly warm and vulnerable? He’s gazing at Bichen like he thinks she’s a perfect miracle, like she’s the sun and moon and all the stars in the sky, like she’s the answer to every question in his heart; Lan Zhan isn’t cold at all. “I wasn’t paying attention,” he says, shaking his head at his own folly. 

When he looks up, Jiang Cheng’s eyes are on him and there’s a disquietingly knowing expression on his face.


	3. Touched

Lan Zhan has always expected to become a dragonrider. It would have been arrogant to say out loud that he expected to impress a Bronze, rather than a Brown or any other colour, but the fact is that his brother had impressed a Bronze, as had their father, as had their uncle, and their mother is the Gusu Weyrwoman; as such, Lan Zhan _has_ always expected to impress a Bronze - or, at worst, a Brown. He had never seriously considered the possibility that he might impress a Green, and of course nobody in their right mind had imagined that he could somehow impress a Gold; as a result he had not really been mentally prepared to suddenly find himself the focus of so much avid - if not precisely disrespectful - attention from his peers in the familiar halls and pathways of Gusu Weyr. Nobody has actually made any improper advances yet, but he can feel speculative eyes following him everywhere he goes, and he recognises the sudden hush that falls over conversations when he enters a room, and the salacious susurration of gossip that resumes as soon as he leaves. 

He isn’t really dealing with it very well. 

Lan Zhan has never been one of the more sociable and outgoing members of the Weyr. He had something of a reputation for aloofness before ever he impressed Bichen; now that his position in the Weyr hierarchy has shifted in this completely unexpected fashion, he finds himself more isolated than ever from everyone but his brother - and, unspoken, the knowledge that he has single-handedly sabotaged Lan Xichen’s future hangs between them. There are only two Gold dragons in Gusu Weyr, so Lan Zhan _will_ eventually be his mother’s heir, and Lan Xichen will either have to leave Gusu whenever Bichen is close to rising, and settle for never becoming a Weyrleader, or else leave Gusu entirely and try his luck against the Bronzes of some other Weyr. Lan Zhan doesn’t know which prospect is worse, but he knows that whatever Lan Xichen chooses, it will be his fault.

Not that he regrets impressing Bichen! Lan Zhan’s heart melts whenever he thinks of her: Bichen is the most thoroughly perfect, unlooked-for joy he has ever known or imagined, and it feels like betrayal to even recall his childhood daydreams of life as a Bronze rider. 

But - much as he cherishes Bichen, and gladly though he would die for her, the fact remains that impressing a Queen has complicated his future in ways that neither his brother nor any of the other Bronze riders have any idea how to help with. Lan Qiren has never much approved of either Lan Zhan or his brother spending time with their mother in seclusion, but under the circumstances nobody is exactly able to object to the new Gold rider visiting the Gusu Weyrwoman for advice, and as a result Lan Zhan is starting to become something of a fixture in his mother’s Weyr. It’s the one place in Gusu where he can be safe from prying eyes and speculative whispers. Or so he thought.

“Something happened,” she says, eyeing him knowingly when he returns from the bathing pool. Lan Zhan opens his mouth and then closes it again, and nods, because she’s not wrong. He folds his legs up neatly underneath him and sits in front of her guqin, reaching for some calm the way that she taught him when he was a small child. He can feel her attention on him as he plays, but he tries to block it out, just as he tries to block out the recollection of how Jiang Fengmian’s son had started a fight with the Jin boy, and how the other Yunmeng boy had beamed and winked at him in a way that seemed, somehow, less like some sort of overture, and more like spontaneous delight. It’s the same way that his face had lit up when Lan Zhan accepted a proffered cup of wine, or when Lan Zhan bested him with a sword: an infectious, uncalculated expression of open-hearted enjoyment that makes Lan Zhan’s mouth go dry. 

“It’s that boy, isn’t it?” she says, and his head snaps up, eyes widening and cheeks betrayed into a sudden blush. She laughs. “I knew it.”

“What boy?” Lan Zhan asks, but he can’t meet her eyes. It’s true. He _has_ been thinking about the boy from Yunmeng Weyr with the bright smile and the unrestrained laugh. The boy who impressed the impossible black dragon - although Lan Zhan had been too caught up in his own private miracle at the time to pay attention to anything that happened in the Hatching Grounds after Bichen’s voice rang out joyfully in his mind. But he heard, afterwards, and he’s seen the evidence with his own eyes: a dragon black as ink, unlike any dragon in history. One with no place in the hierarchy of the Weyr. Another unprecedented pairing - and one that the other dragonriders don’t scruple to insult in the open, it appears. 

“I don’t know what boy, my love,” says his mother, sounding entirely too smug. “But I could tell there was _some_ boy or other, and you’ve just confirmed it.” 

Lan Zhan winces. A trap? He glances up at her reproachfully, but her smile is not unkind. They have never talked about this sort of thing before, but since he impressed a Queen some things go without saying. Of course it’s a boy.

“Won’t you tell me about him?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” says Lan Zhan, truthfully.

“But there _is_ a boy?”

“There are many boys in the Weyr,” he says, stubbornly, returning his attention to the guqin and pretending not to hear her snort. 

“But there is one special boy?”

“He’s not special,” says Lan Zhan, but that is a lie so shameless that his cheeks scald at once. “I mean - I mean, he’s not special to me.” And that’s still a lie. He looks up at her helplessly. “I hardly know him,” he whispers, awkwardly - and that’s true enough, at least. He knows him only well enough to frown at him in lessons, and to have failed so abysmally to prevent him from breaking the rules about alcohol that they both earned themselves a beating before the Hatching took place.

“But you’d like to?” she asks, watching him carefully. He swallows, and then nods jerkily. She makes a soft humming sound, as though turning this over in her mind. “Would I like him?” 

“He does not respect the rules,” says Lan Zhan, and that makes her laugh, as he thought it might. His mouth curls very slightly, and he glances up at her for a moment, and then back down at the guqin. “Lan Qiren disapproves of him very much.”

“Oh, I like him already,” his mother says, dimpling at him. She picks up her hair brush and crosses the room to settle down behind him, then starts to pull the pins out of his hair, the way she did when he was younger. Lan Zhan melts at the familiar touch, and his spine starts to relax before she even sets the brush in his scalp. “Tell me more, A Zhan,” she says, leaning close.

* * * 

He’s walking back from the library with his brother some days later, when Lan Zhan catches a glimpse of another of his Hatching mates dealing with unwanted attention - and is reminded all over again what a good Weyrleader Lan Xichen would make. It’s Nie Mingjue’s retainer, Meng Yao - who impressed a Green, somehow, despite not being on the Hatching sands at all. Meng Yao is, it must be said, the sort of boy whom everyone would expect to impress a Green. He’s prettier than half the girls in the Weyr, and with his slight, bird-boned frame he looks all too easy to overpower. Evidently one of the Brown riders has reached exactly that conclusion, because the little Green rider is backed up against a wall with his arms crossed furiously in front of his chest and a hunted expression on his dimpled face as the larger man leans down into his space and whispers something clearly unwelcome.

“I will _not_!” Meng Yao snaps, and the Brown rider laughs, and leans in closer - and then Lan Xichen is on him, dragging him back by the collar and fixing him with an icy glare that stills his protests before the first word is fully formed. 

“You bring shame on Gusu Weyr,” says Lan Xichen, in a tone that is as withering as it is quiet. His hand is on his belt knife in a way that communicates, very clearly, an absolute readiness to start eviscerating someone in the immediate future. The Brown rider flinches, and starts to protest, but the words falter under Lan Xichen’s gaze. “Get out of my sight,” Lan Xichen says, and the Brown rider ducks away.

Lan Zhan and his brother both turn their attention to Meng Yao, who is red faced and trembling and who looks more humiliated than grateful, if truth be told - but as soon as he meets their eyes he smooths his expression into something cool and respectful, and drops his gaze. Lan Zhan is not entirely sure how to feel about that. He catches the shock on Meng Yao’s face when Lan Xichen bows low before him, though, and the expression that follows that one is thoughtful and a little vulnerable.

“I apologise,” says Lan Xichen. His voice is shaking slightly; he is, Lan Zhan realises, very angry indeed. “That should not have happened.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” says Meng Yao, in a brave attempt at airiness which almost works. “No need to trouble yourself, Young Master.” His words falter under Lan Xichen’s gaze. “I’m used to it,” he adds, more quietly. 

Lan Xichen winces. “You should not be used to such disrespect,” he says. He does not, quite, glance at Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan feels the shift of his focus somehow, and he knows that his brother is well aware of the attention he has been receiving himself. It has not reached this level of obviousness - but then, the consequences of disrespecting a Gold rider are very different from the consequences of disrespecting a humble Green.

Meng Yao licks his lips. He looks very small and fragile, for all that he’s clearly striving for an air of fierceness and independence, with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his chin tipped pugnaciously; Lan Xichen is having difficulty taking his eyes off him. 

“I mean it,” says Lan Xichen earnestly. The two of them have been gazing at each other for longer than is strictly polite now. “He brought shame upon this Weyr. You should not have to suffer any impropriety at Gusu.”

Meng Yao gives an incredulous little laugh. “Young Master - I impressed a Green. That makes me...well. This is not the first time someone has made assumptions about my - availability - over the past few days.” He swallows. “And everyone knows what will happen when my dragon… well.” His eyes dart over to Lan Zhan then, and for a moment the two of them share a wordless and extremely awkward moment of fellow feeling before Meng Yao looks away. His voice, when he speaks again, is very soft, and very angry. “I have been told that there’s no point in being fussy, when eventually they’ll all have me anyway, whether I like it or not. That I should get used to it now, while I still have some say in the matter - that it will make it easier, when she - when…” He ducks his head. “You know.” 

“That is _not_ acceptable,” Lan Xichen says - and his voice is more like a snarl than anything Lan Zhan has ever heard from him before. Meng Yao jumps, his eyes growing huge in his doll-like face. Lan Xichen looks furious. “I am profoundly ashamed. I promise, this _will not_ happen again.”

“You can’t…” begins Meng Yao, uncertainly, and then he stops, and swallows. “Thank you,” he says instead, in a voice that is suddenly small and raw and shy. “Thank you for - for wanting to help. You needn’t, but - it’s very kind. I appreciate it.” 

Lan Xichen looks at him once more, and his expression is stricken. And something else too, something bright and sharp with longing that makes Lan Zhan wish that he could vanish _between_ at will and leave the two of them alone.

* * * 

Wei Ying is laughing, and Lan Zhan cannot concentrate on his work.

He knows it’s Wei Ying - Wei Wuxian - even without going to the window to look, because nobody else in all the Weyr ever lets out that joyful tumble of unrestrained glee. It makes Lan Zhan’s mouth twitch just to hear it, makes him want things he shouldn’t want. Wei Ying is too bright, too loud, too quick, too _much_ , and he makes Lan Zhan’s skin prickle with wanting in a way he doesn’t know how to deal with. 

He puts down his brush at last and crosses to the window, hovering at the edge, half-hidden by the sill.

Outside, Wei Ying and Jiang Wangyin and Nie Huaisang are darting around playing some ridiculous game of tag, like children. Lan Zhan wants to roll his eyes, for they all certainly have duties they should be fulfilling at this moment, but...it _does_ look like fun. He’s thinking this, wistfully, and perhaps it shows a little on his face, because at that moment Wei Ying - head flung back, eyes dancing with merriment - catches sight of him, and does a double take. 

Lan Zhan ducks back out of view, but it’s too late.

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan Lan Zhan Lan Zhan!” It’s a singsong chant of delight, and from anyone else it would make Lan Zhan feel hunted, but - somehow, from Wei Ying, it only feels like a welcome. “Lan Zhan, do you want to join us? Lan Zhan, you should come and help me! Jiang Cheng is a terrible bully!”

“I’m not! Shut up! Don’t bother him!” hisses Jiang Wangyin, sounding embarrassed and awkward and well aware that this is thoroughly improper. 

“I’m not bothering him! Am I bothering you, Lan Zhan? You don’t have to come down, if you don’t want to - but it’s a beautiful day, and you’re always working so hard. Don’t you deserve a break?”

“I don’t think you should bother Hanguang-jun,” says Nie Huaisang, nervously. Nie Huaisang impressed a Green; Lan Zhan’s mind darts ahead, and he frowns. Is Nie Huaisang hoping that Wei Ying’s Black might fly his little dragon? Is he flirting with Wei Ying?

“There you are!” sings out Wei Ying, and Lan Zhan realises he’s stepped back out without any particular conscious intent. He grips the edge of the window a little too tightly as he looks down at them; Wei Ying’s smile is blindingly bright. “Don’t you want to come down and join us?” he asks, wide eyed and hopeful - and it’s the same bright look he wore when he invited Lan Zhan to take a cup of wine, instead of chastising them. Lan Zhan still doesn’t know how to refuse it. He knows how to scowl, and he does so now, but Wei Ying, alone in all the Weyr, seems cheerfully impervious to Lan Zhan’s scowls. “Just for a few minutes, Lan Zhan?” he calls, plaintively. “Just to even up the game, so they can’t pick on me?”

Lan Zhan ducks back out of the way, and considers. Nie Huaisang is nothing to fear, and Jiang Wangyin...he does cast helpless looks Lan Zhan’s way sometimes, much like the other Bronze riders, but his are, at least, equal parts confusion, longing and guilt, and he has never struck Lan Zhan as particularly predatory or threatening. He can’t blame the boy for wondering about what will happen when Bichen takes her first flight; he wonders himself, and there would be worse people to end up tied to than Jiang Fengmian’s earnest, short-tempered son. He seems to have a good heart, at least.

“Lan Zhan?” calls Wei Ying, and Lan Zhan’s heart squeezes too tight in his chest. Oh, who is he kidding? The reason he’s considering going down there isn’t Jiang Wangyin.

“You insulted him,” hisses Jiang Wangyin, and Wei Ying makes a startled noise.

“Did not!” he says, indignant. “Everyone’s always so _weird_ around him, and it’s not fair. Lan Zhan ought to get to have fun, the same as everyone else.”

“Stop calling him that!”

“We took a beating together,” says Wei Ying, staunchly. “That means we are brothers now, and don’t need to stand on ceremony.”

“How are you such a disaster?” demands Jiang Wangyin. “You got Hanguang-jun beaten, and you think that makes you friends? Brothers? Wei Wuxian, don’t you know…”

But Lan Zhan does not hear the rest of the muttered conversation because he is leaving his room and hurrying down the stone staircase inside before he can change his mind. When he steps out into the sunlit afternoon, he pauses, taken aback by the sight of Wei Ying straddling a tumbled Jiang Wangyin; Jiang Wangyin is thrashing around and protesting loudly, and Wei Ying appears to be tickling him. Lan Zhan blinks. 

“Hanguang-Jun!” exclaims Nie Huaisang, in tones of incredulity, and Wei Ying freezes, and then bounces up off his brother at once, beaming. 

“You came!” he says, and Lan Zhan melts a little under the full force of that smile. He couldn’t quite explain it, when he was speaking to his mother, but somehow Wei Ying’s smiles are different from other people’s because they offer everything and demand nothing in return. Wei Ying’s smiles make Lan Zhan feel that he has done something wonderful simply by being alive. He nods, feeling a little dazed, and Wei Ying half skips towards him. 

For a moment they stand quite still, facing one another, and Lan Zhan feels a quivering self-consciousness rising up from the soles of his feet - but then Wei Ying is darting forward and tapping his nose with one fingertip, his eyes twinkling, and announcing “Tag! You’re it!” before darting away with a peal of laughter, and Lan Zhan finds himself whirling into sudden motion, his heart brimming with unaccustomed delight.


	4. Choices

Nie Huaisang notices things. 

His older brother calls him a gossip, and insists that he has the attention span of a mayfly, but this is not a fair assessment. Nie Huaisang has a retentive memory, and he has the kind of mind that spots patterns and makes connections instinctively in ways that seem quite obvious to him, and completely opaque - indeed, nonsensical - to Nie Mingjue. It’s just that the particular things that most interest Nie Huaisang tend not to be the subjects that Nie Mingjue considers appropriate for a dragonrider to focus upon. There’s a limit to how fascinating Huaisang can find questions of projected threadfall, taxation, crop output and ideal wing formation; it’s not that he doesn’t _understand _, or that he can’t do the maths, but he finds it difficult to muster much enthusiasm for these subjects. Whereas his interest in the nuances of who said what to whom and why is limitless. Huaisang has always been perfectly well aware that he would never become a Weyrleader, whatever his brother might hope, but nevertheless he is, in fact, very much better at politics than Nie Mingjue.__

__Presently he is thoroughly spoiled for subjects, with the whirling eddies of tension and lust and frustration and partiality that swirl through Gusu Weyr in the wake of the recent Hatching. His attention, it must be confessed, is still three quarters given over to his dragon Meili, but he would have to be blind to fail to notice the kerfuffle that has been caused by the unprecedented twist of Lan Wangji impressing Gusu’s new Queen - or, indeed, the ruffled feathers and uncertainty surrounding the hatching of Wei Wuxian’s great Black dragon._ _

__Huaisang is rather enjoying the tangle of gossip and speculation surrounding the Hatching, for all that his own role was entirely unremarkable, and he is _thoroughly_ enjoying all the flattering attention he’s been getting from assorted fine strapping specimens of manhood as a newly Impressed Green rider._ _

__He cannot help but notice that Meng Yao, however, is not._ _

____

* * * 

“Klah,” says Nie Huaisang innocently, watching Meng Yao jump as he sets the cup down on the window ledge. Meng Yao shoots him a piercing sidelong look, and then glances away. He had been aware of Huaisang’s nearness, of course - all three of his fire lizards are in attendance, which makes sneaking up an impossibility, but clearly Meng Yao had not been expecting anyone to stop and actually address him.

The little Gold is perched in her usual place on Meng Yao’s shoulder with her slender tail looped around his neck like coils of elaborate jewellery; her eyes are narrowed as she watches Huaisang, for all the world as though he is an unsatisfactory drudge that she’s considering dismissing. 

It’s adorable.

Huaisang pulls the little waxed paper bag of meat rolls out of his sleeve and quietly sets it down beside Meng Yao. “And food,” he adds. He snaps his fan open and looks out of the window at the dragons basking in the sunlight. “I noticed that you didn’t make it to the canteen this morning.” 

He does not say ‘Again’, but he certainly thinks it, as the Queen and her two tiny Bronze swains launch themselves at the bag with cries of predatory glee.

“I wasn’t hungry,” says Meng Yao, but his fingers stray to the cup of Klah. After a moment he picks it up and takes a long sip; Huaisang keeps his attention firmly fixed on the dragons outside. Meng Yao may have been able to convince his little fair of fire lizards to raid the kitchens on his behalf (although Huaisang frankly doubts the sustainability of such an endeavour) but carrying cups of hot Klah is clearly beyond their skill set. Meng Yao makes a small, involuntary sound of bliss, and Huaisang carefully does not smile. 

“Mm,” says Nie Huaisang, mildly. “How’s Wangfei doing? She’s growing fast, isn’t she? Her hide look beautiful in this light - so many shades of green! Are you using some kind of special oil?”

Meng Yao is disarmed in spite of himself, as Huaisang knew he would be: their dragons are their weak spots, and knowing it does not change the fact that every dragonrider could quite happily talk about nothing but their dragon for hours on end, given a half-way encouraging audience. Huaisang is, in fact, perfectly willing to talk claws and scales and sleeping patterns and growth spurts, and he listens with genuine fondness to Meng Yao’s anecdotes, and shares several of his own, pretending not to notice Meng Yao absent mindedly finishing the Klah and nibbling one of the meat buns. 

Huaisang has met all of the other new Green riders over the past few days, as well as plenty of the old established hands. He has had _a lot_ of conversations about what it’s like to impress a Green. It does not escape his notice that Meng Yao, unlike their peers, has made absolutely no reference whatsoever to mating flights during the course of the whole conversation about their dragons, either explicit or implicit. No arched brows or sniggers, no winces or eyerolls or nervously bitten lips. 

So. 

“I don’t know how they’ll be coping back at Qinghe without you,” Huaisang says, peeking over the top of his fan for a moment before glancing back at the dragons basking in the sun outside. “Da Ge will be missing you terribly.”

The look of unhappiness on Meng Yao’s face isn’t feigned, Huaisang is almost certain. That’s interesting.

“I’m sure nothing in the Weyr is running properly without you,” he adds.

“I sent instructions…” Meng Yao begins, and then pulls a face. “But it’s never any good writing things down, if you want something doing right. You need to…” He bites his tongue and starts again. “But I mean no disrespect to Qinghe Weyr, of course. I’m sure standards are being maintained.”

Huaisang laughs, and taps Meng Yao’s arm with his swiftly-folded fan. “And _I’m_ sure that they’re all running around like headless chickens, and only now realising how much of the smooth running of the Weyr was down to you, A Yao.”

Meng Yao ducks his head; Huaisang thinks he’s actually blushing. The dimples really are _ridiculous_.

“You are too kind, Young Master,” Meng Yao says, quietly.

“Hey, none of that here! We’re equals, A Yao - both Green riders of Gusu Weyr, now!”

He wasn’t mistaken; Meng Yao flinches.

Huaisang sighs, and lowers his fan. “Do you want to talk about it?” he says at last, meeting Meng Yao’s eyes for a long moment before looking away. “You don’t have to,” he adds, lightly. “We can go on pretending, if you like, but I don’t think it’s going to help.”

The little Gold hisses at him, and the two Bronzes pause in the midst of wolfing down chunks of meat roll to glare and bridle. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” says Meng Yao. 

“You didn’t want to be a dragonrider,” says Huaisang, bluntly.

“I always wanted to live in a Weyr,” Meng Yao says, quick and defensive, lying with the truth. He sets the empty cup down on the ledge with a loud click, avoiding Huaisang’s gaze. 

Nie Huaisang smiles. “Oh, I never doubted that.” 

Meng Yao is Holderkin; he must have stood out among the stodgy, puritanical Holders like a fire lizard in a litter of rabbits; it was easy to imagine how desperately he must have longed to escape to the Weyrs, where nobody would raise an eyebrow at the sight of a delicately pretty young man who preferred the company of other men, and where there was nothing shameful or noteworthy about having an unmarried mother. Nevertheless... “A Yao, if you _wanted_ to be a dragonrider you would have become one years ago,” Huaisang says, apologetically. “Instead you made yourself a place in Qinghe Weyr without ever being tied to a dragon. You didn’t want to be chosen.”

The silence that follows is full of unspoken things; all three fire lizards swarm around Meng Yao making anxious sounds; the little Queen wraps her tail around his neck again, crooning and rubbing her little wedge-shaped head against his cheek. One of the Bronzes starts to puff up his chest and make threatening darts towards Huaisang - but since the tiny creature is barely bigger than his fan, the effect is precious rather than terrifying.

Meng Yao swallows. “I love her,” he says at last, in a small voice. “Wangfei is...she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

“That’s the terrible part,” Huaisang agrees, with a shrug. “None of it is their fault, after all.” He knows that the expression on his own face is soppy-stupid, but he can’t help it; just thinking of his dragon makes his very veins run with honey. “I’ve never loved anything - any _one_ \- like this. I didn’t know I could. You’d think after growing up in a Weyr, it wouldn’t be a surprise, but - I don’t think anything can really prepare you for how it feels.”

“No,” agrees Meng Yao in a husky voice, staring out of the window. “I thought I knew, after I impressed these little ones, but it’s not the same at all. It’s so - pure. So overwhelming. I’d die for her.”

“Of course you would.” He looks at Meng Yao knowingly. “But even so - you didn’t want this. You didn’t _ask_ for this.” He makes an educated guess. “You didn’t get to choose.” Because everything else has been a choice, hasn’t it? Meng Yao had chosen Qinghe Weyr, of all the Weyrs he could have approached; he’d chosen Nie Mingjue - fierce and gruff on the surface, as fitted the rider of the largest Bronze in living memory, but a man who was fundamentally kind and decent, with a strong protective streak. Meng Yao had chosen his own path to independence and security, much as his mother had done - but unlike her, he also had the luxury of choosing his own bedmates. 

And now all of that is gone, and Meng Yao is vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been ready for. 

Meng Yao’s throat bobs as he swallows. “I don’t…” He gives a short, awkward laugh, and absent mindedly scritches the little Bronze that’s settled on his forearm. “I - I don’t want to change anything. I love her.” He sounds almost indignant. Baffled.

Nie Huaisang is startled by a sudden impulse to hug the boy beside him; he ignores it staunchly. 

Holderkin have...somewhat antiquated attitudes towards relationships. Towards sex. Nie Huaisang knows that it matters, to Meng Yao, that his mother was unwed. That she earned her living in a brothel. Among the Holderkin, this is a source of profound shame, for in the Holds women are supposed to belong to one man, and cleave only to him; men are expected to take their pleasures where they will, and this is tolerated within certain parameters so long as their paramours are female: indeed, as far as Nie Huaisang can gather, among Holderkin it’s far more important that the paramour be female than that she be willing. 

“I’m sure my brother misses you,” he says again, meaning it. 

Meng Yao looks mortified; Huaisang really had not been aiming for bitchy, and he hurriedly adds “No - truly, A Yao! I’m sure he’s beside himself. He really values you. Qin Su does too.” His mouth twitches. “Although I’ll admit that his partiality certainly became a lot more - ah - _pointed_ after your Queen went into heat that time.” 

Meng Yao does blush then. Nie Huaisang had watched with amusement as his brother went from slightly-distracted-by-the-pretty-new-steward to dazed-and-doting; it had been a clever move in Meng Yao’s campaign to consolidate his position in the Weyr to have Nie Mingjue find him alone, feverish and wanton as his precocious little Queen took her first mating flight. Given that Meng Yao genuinely was an extremely capable steward, Nie Huaisang saw no cause to object at the time or since. 

Neither, it seemed, did Qin Su; indeed, Nie Huaisang has some strong, if unconfirmed, suspicions that the Qinghe Weyrwoman had bedded Meng Yao herself, whether with or without Nie Mingjue.

Honestly, he would have expected Meng Yao to take to this situation like a fish to water, playing off one suitor against another and making use of the particular power afforded to a very pretty young man in a Weyr full of frustrated dragonriders. He has evidently misunderstood some fundamental parts of Meng Yao’s character.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing?” he says, cautiously. “Being a Green rider?”

Meng Yao gives him a very level look. 

“I heard about Su Minshan, but that guy’s an asshole,” says Nie Huaisang, hastily. He grins. “And it sounds like Lan Xichen is ready to cut off his balls and make them into earrings if you just give him the word, so I don’t think you need to worry about him hassling you again in a hurry.”

The blood rushes up into Meng Yao’s cheeks once more at that, and Nie Huaisang giggles. 

“Do you just have a thing for Weyrleaders? Is that it?”

“Lan Xichen is not the Gusu Weyrleader,” protests Meng Yao, without meeting Huaisang’s gaze. “Nor will he ever be, now.”

“Well, no - not unless he lets Shuoyue fly Bichen,” admits Huaisang, arching one speculative brow. “But I really can’t see that happening, somehow. Not that the dragons would have a problem with it,” he adds reflectively. “And it’s not like Lan Xichen can knock his brother up either, so they wouldn’t need to worry about children, but - no. Not going to happen.” Meng Yao is staring at him wide-eyed, and Huaisang reminds himself once more that Holderkin are easily scandalised. He winks. “I just meant that you seem to have a definite type, A Yao. Powerful Bronze riders or nothing, eh?”

“I don’t - I didn’t - I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” says Meng Yao, thoroughly scarlet cheeked now, but he can’t hide his dimples or the slight curl of his mouth. He knows that Lan Xichen has taken a shine to him, and he likes it, that’s clear enough. Nie Huaisang elbows him in the side.

“He’s cute,” he says. “Big, strong, earnest, pretty, protective - big hands, too. Did you notice the hands? I bet you noticed the hands. And that waist to shoulder ratio. Plus - Shuoyue is _big_ , and you know what they say about the size of a man’s dragon.”

Meng Yao looks flustered. “It doesn’t matter what I noticed,” he says, tartly. “He was just being nice. Bronzes don’t fly Greens, so it’s not like...I’ll still have to…” He purses his lips. “You know.”

“It really bothers you.”

Meng Yao looks baffled. “Why doesn’t it bother _you_?” he asks.

Huaisang shrugs. Meng Yao is several years his senior, but he lived most of his life among Holderfolk, and it clearly makes a considerable difference to how he sees the world. “I mean - I’ve had my whole life to get used to it? And I always figured - I mean, come on.” He flourishes his fan expressively in the air and then snaps it wide, peering at Meng Yao from over the edge. “I was always going to impress a Green, wasn’t I? I know Da Ge somehow still cherished the notion that I might Impress a Blue or a Brown, or even, bless his heart, a Bronze, but - it was always going to be a Green. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. No, it’s Lan Wangji _I_ feel sorry for. Poor creature spent his whole life expecting to be a Bronze rider, and now… _well!_ That has to be awkward, even without taking his brother into account. Or his father. Or his uncle.”

Meng Yao winces. “They’ll all have to leave the Weyr whenever his Queen is close to Rising.”

Huaisang nods. “He’ll be alone.”

“I’m alone,” says Meng Yao, staring at the flagstones. The little Queen snuggles closer to him, making little chirruping sounds of concern. 

“Shut _up_ , you are _not_ ,” says Huaisang firmly. “I’m here. We’re family, of a kind, surely? I mean...I suppose I’m not technically your brother-in-law, but at least we’re both from Qinghe.”

“I’m Holderkin,” points out Meng Yao, but he’s looking less bleak.

“That’s just where you happened to be born, A Yao,” says Nie Huaisang, shaking his head. “You always belonged to the Weyrs.”

“But…”

“It’s going to be all right,” Huaisang says, softly, taking his hand. Meng Yao jumps, and for a moment Huaisang thinks he will pull his hand away, but he doesn’t. “You were a little shaken up, because things didn’t turn out the way you planned - and I think you’re used to controlling how things turn out, aren’t you? But you can do this - and it’s worth doing. It matters. We’re all the shield that humanity has against Thread, you know.”

“I’m not a warrior!”

“You’re a dragonrider. You’re worthy. You don’t have to have the strongest arm or the longest sword.” He gives that last word a certain inflection and arches his eyebrow, and is rewarded by a choke of reluctant laughter at the double entendre. “Greens are the foundation of every wing and every Weyr.” He puts his head to one side. “I know it’s a little - daunting - thinking about the Mating Flights. Not being in control, all that passion and vulnerability. But you can choose how you look at it, and what you let it mean? I think so, anyway. You can choose whether to let it be something terribly meaningful and important - or you can treat it like just getting terribly drunk, and losing all your inhibitions, and - well. Having a lot of athletic, no-strings sex with rather a lot of terribly buff and flexible men.” He giggles, but then looks Meng Yao in the eyes, suddenly very serious. “But it’s up to you what you let it mean, and it’s up to you whether you want to touch any of them - or none of them, or all of them - outside of those times. Lan Xichen really _will_ tear their balls off if anyone tries to force you, and Lan Qiren will help him. Hell, Mingjue would fly from Qinghe Weyr to lend them both a hand, come to that.”

Meng Yao blinks, suddenly uncertain. “Su Minshan said…” he begins.

“Su Minshan, as previously established, is an asshole. Plus he's Holderkin - he doesn't know what the hell he's doing.” 

“Oh.”

The silence that follows is more comfortable. Thoughtful. The firelizards start a game of tag that ricochets around the corridor over the humans’ heads. 

Eventually Huaisang says, “I wish you’d stop avoiding everyone, A Yao. There are a lot of people who would like to be your friends, if you’d give them a chance.” He catches the jaded look this occasions and sighs. “Not like _that!_ I mean, yes, I’m sure that there are plenty of guys who would be thrilled to be that kind of friend too, but that’s not what I meant.” He holds Meng Yao’s gaze, willing him to really listen. “Half the dragonriders in the Weyr ride Greens, and they’ll have your back, if you let them.”

Meng Yao looks uncertain - and that’s progress, in Nie Huaisang’s humble opinion. 

“And besides, I swear Lan Xichen has been pining away ever since you started making yourself scarce,” adds Huaisang, solemnly and Meng Yao makes an outraged noise and smacks his arm. “Don’t laugh! He’s lost weight, I’m sure of it! And he’s been looking all sad and soulful and - ow! Ow! Cry mercy! No tickling! _No tickling!_ ”


	5. Glimpses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Apologies for the hiatus - between Christmas, leaving my job, moving countries, and my 72 year old mother dramatically falling from top to bottom of a flight of stairs, life has been a bit hectic. Am trying to resume normal services, though.)

Watching the young dragons practice their manoeuvres in the distance sends an odd pang through Lan Xichen. The dragonets are barely a thumb-length from nose to tail-tip from this vantage, and it’s impossible to distinguish between the riders - but Lan Zhan’s dragon is impossible to miss, glinting bright gold in the centre of the wing, with Wei Wuxian’s pitch-black oddity of a dragon always nearby, like a shadow inked onto the sky among the gaudier Bronzes. 

When the newly-hatched Queen dragonet chose to impress upon his baby brother, Lan Xichen had realised that his future was not going to unfold the way he had been assuming. Not that he was so arrogant as to believe that he could just step into his father’s shoes, the way that the son of a Lord Holder might, but - well. His Bronze _is_ the largest male dragon in Gusu, and for years he has been assisting with the running of the Weyr and unofficially learning the responsibilities involved in becoming a Weyrleader from his father and uncle, because...well, yes, because everyone _has_ rather assumed that he would eventually step into his father’s shoes. 

But now that won’t be happening. 

He doesn’t blame Lan Zhan, of course. He loves his little brother more than he loves anyone else in the world, and he’s sincerely delighted that Lan Zhan has Bichen in his life - but it would certainly all have been very much simpler if Bichen had chosen one of the suitable maidens, and if one of the Bronzes had picked Lan Zhan, the way everyone had fully expected. 

He’s used to taking Shuoyue out of the Weyr to visit Qinghe whenever his mother’s Gold is close to rising, of course, and Shuoyue has always been stoically accepting about being excluded from the Gusu mating flights for his rider’s sake - but he had rather assumed that things would be different with the new Queen. Happily Bichen won’t be rising on a mating flight for a good while yet, and since she’s still just a dragonet Shuoyue doesn’t seem to have started thinking of her as a romantic prospect - but eventually this will change, and Lan Xichen already feels guilty that because of him his dragon won’t have the chance to court the younger Gusu Queen either. Among dragons there’s nothing noteworthy about flying one’s hatching mates, let alone flying an older dragon sibling, but Shuoyue has calmly accepted that humans do not feel the same way about such matters, and that Lan Xichen cannot participate in any mating flight that involves his little brother’s Gold. 

In truth Shuoyue has never seemed unduly distressed over the years by this enforced abstinence, but Xichen still can’t help blaming himself for denying his dragon the opportunity to participate in such a fundamental part of life. Xichen himself has never been particularly interested in chasing after skirts, or after pretty boys, but it really isn’t fair to expect his dragon to mirror his own attitudes in these matters; it’s really too bad that the largest Bronze dragon in the Weyr is unable to fly _either_ of the Gusu Queens. 

_”There are plenty of Greens,”_ murmurs Shuoyue mildly in his mind, and Lan Xichen feels his face growing warm. There _are_ plenty of Greens, but Bronzes do not normally fly Greens, nor has Shuoyue ever shown any inclination to fly a Green before now. But Lan Xichen has no secrets from his dragon, and so Shuoyue is perfectly well aware that Lan Xichen’s attention has been very much caught by one particular Green rider.

“Hush,” he thinks, flustered in spite of himself.

 _“I like Wangfei,”_ Shuoyue replies, wholly unrepentant. There’s nothing lubricious about the statement - he _does_ like the little Green, nimble and clever and dainty and fierce. “And I think you like her rider.”

Lan Xichen swallows. “Meng Yao has shown considerable courage and strength of character,” he thinks, stiffly, and then sags under the wave of wordless _knowingness_ that sweeps through him. “I do,” he admits very quietly. “I _do_ like her rider. Very much. But the last thing he needs right now is another dragonrider looking at him...inappropriately.” He sighs. “And Bronzes don’t fly Greens.”

Shuoyue’s response is another wordless wave of emotion - this time more speculative, in a way that Lan Xichen honestly doesn’t know what to do with. 

He busies himself once more with the reports on his desk, and tries to ignore the flickering shapes that dart and swoop in the blue expanse beyond his window. 

He is almost certain he knows which of the little green shapes curling and coiling and swooping among the clouds is Meng Yao’s Wangfei.

* * * 

“He spends too much time with Cangse Sanren’s boy.”

Lan Xichen blinks. His uncle is scowling down at the sparring grounds, where Lan Zhan is paired up with Wei Wuxian, the two of them moving in graceful shapes at the centre of a circle of attentive dragonriders, light glinting from their belt knives as they flash through the air in patterns more like choreography than warfare. 

“Nobody else can keep up with Lan Zhan,” Lan Xichen points out, respectfully. He isn’t boasting; they both know it’s true, and Lan Xichen feels a warm curl of pride in his chest at the thought of how his little brother excels in this, as in all things. “But Wei Wuxian is his equal in the ring. The two of them are evenly matched, Uncle.”

“Hmph.” 

Lan Xichen rather likes Wei Wuxian, but he isn’t about to mention that right now. He has noticed the way that Lan Zhan’s eyes follow the laughing boy from Yunmeng, and the way that Lan Zhan’s face softens in his presence. He’s still very nearly as prickly towards Wei Wuxian as he is towards any of the others, but Wei Wuxian seems to be completely impervious to Lan Zhan’s tart tongue, and reacts to reprimands with dancing eyes and gusts of teasing laughter. Lan Zhan has not had many friends in his life, and Lan Xichen fully intends to do whatever he can to protect this growing friendship. 

“That dragon…” says Lan Qiren, his scowl deepening, and Lan Xichen frowns. “It is unnatural.”

“...Suibian?” Lan Xichen feels himself going cold and quiet and still. He will not argue with his Uncle, of course, but…

“‘The Bronzes fly their Golden Queens/While Browns and Blues chase after Greens,” Lan Qiren recites, querulously. “The Harpers know - this is how it should be. How it has always been. There are no Black dragons, Xichen. There never have been. It is not the natural order of things.”

“It is...new,” says Lan Xichen, slowly. “And rare. But Suibian is a fine, strong, healthy beast.”

Lan Qiren snaps his fan open and waves it with sharp, jerky movements. “They’re saying he’s cursed. That he brings bad fortune upon Gusu.” 

Lan Xichen recoils. “Who is saying this, Uncle?”

Lan Qiren shrugs. “Rumours fly like sparks in dry grass.”

“He is a _blessing_ , Uncle,” says Lan Xichen firmly. Lan Qiren’s brows draw together, and Lan Xichen moderates his tone. “Every dragon is a blessing, surely? Every pair of wings strengthens the Weyr, and Suibian is strong and nimble and healthy and brave, whatever the colour of his hide. He will be a valiant fighter against thread.”

“Hmph.” 

There are cheers from the sparring circle; they both glance down at the young dragonriders, and see Lan Zhan pinning Wei Wuxian to the stone, with a blade pressed to his throat. Lan Xichen feels his mouth twitching into a small smile.

“Not so well matched after all,” says Lan Qiren, with just a trace of smugness - and then Wei Wuxian does something, some twisting wriggling movement Lan Xichen can’t quite follow, and somehow both their knives are skittering away and Wei Wuxian is sitting on top of Lan Zhan, peels of delighted laughter ringing through the air.

* * * 

“We should not tolerate their presence in Gusu. They dishonour their own Weyr!”

Lan Xichen bites his lip, watching in consternation as his father and uncle pace back and forth, debating the most appropriate way to deal with the Qishan Holderkin delegation amassed outside.

“It seems that Qishan Weyr is not fulfilling its obligations towards its Holders,” he ventures, cautiously. His father glares at him, and Lan Xichen lapses back into respectful silence.

“ _Holderkin!_ ” snaps Lan Qiren, as though the very word were an expletive. 

“The boy speaks the truth,” says Father, and Lan Xichen’s back straightens. “Wen Ruohan dishonours his Weyr; small wonder if the Holderkin look to us for aid.”

“But - the Rules are clear! Each Weyr protects its own land. We cannot invade the Qishan Weyr’s territory.”

“Well _somebody_ needs to.” Lan Xichen’s heart speeds up at the sound of his mother’s voice. It is always a complicated pleasure to see her, for she is perennially at loggerheads with the Weyrleader and Uncle Qiren. She had never wanted to be Chosen; Lan Xichen has still never learned the full truth of how she came to murder a Gusu dragonrider while they were on Search, but he has speculated at great and unhappy length. 

“Weyrwoman,” says Lan Qiren, stiffly. Father does not speak. He cannot meet her eyes. Really, Lan Xichen reflects, it’s small enough wonder that he has never had much inclination towards forming a romantic relationship of his own: his parents’ enforced connection is the stuff of nightmares. She must consider matters serious indeed if she has emerged from the privacy of her chambers for once.

He spots Lan Zhan hovering behind their mother’s shoulder, where he is often to be found these days when not busy with his duties, and offers him a rueful smile. Lan Zhan blinks back; most people would probably not be able to recognise the signs of distress in his expression, but Lan Xichen has been reading his reserved brother’s facial cues since they were both tiny. Lan Zhan is worried about the Holderkin situation too.

“The Weyrwoman speaks aright,” says Father, still not looking at her.

“Of course I do,” says Mother, lowering herself into the Reception Chamber’s empty chair in a billow of white and blue fabric. “Wen Ruohan and his kin abuse their power and evade their responsibilities. They are bleeding the farmers dry, and “forgetting” to fly against threadfall over those farms that have protested against this treatment. Crops have been left unprotected. Herdbeasts and children bear the scars of thread.”

“That is a serious accusation!” 

“It is a serious dereliction of duty.” Mother drums her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Lan Qiren, this is not a time for mindlessly cleaving to the rulebook. When Weyrfolk do not live up to their side of the bargain, it is rank cruelty to demand that Holderkin live up to theirs. The Holders are owed dragonrider protection, and they are not receiving it.”

“Nonsense! Gossip!”

“Then receive them,” snaps Mother. “Let them tell you their stories. Let them show you their scars. We have all seen the way that standards have been allowed to slip, as the Qishan Weyrwoman’s health declines, and Wen Ruohan’s worst impulses are allowed free rein; the Wen Clan dominate Qishan Weyr, and they seek only their own advancement.”

“Only a fool would make an enemy of Qishan Weyr,” says Lan Qiren, stubbornly. “They have that device of the Ancients’, with its uncanny powers, and who knows what other technology…”

“And so we allow them to ride roughshod over everyone else? And so we allow them to ignore their responsibilities as dragonriders? And so we allow them to do as they please?”

Mother is beautiful when she glares. Neither Lan Qiren nor Father seems to know what to say.

“Father, with respect - should we not listen to their claims?” asks Lan Xichen, tentatively. “How else may we weigh the situation, and be sure to choose the right course of action?”

“Holderkin!” snaps Lan Qiren again, but Father is shaking his head.

“The boy is right,” he says with a sigh, still not meeting Mother’s eyes. “We should listen. How can we form an opinion or judge the best course of action if we do not hear their petition? If they are liars, or opportunists, we will treat them accordingly. But if they are not - well. Then we have a difficult decision.”

Lan Qiren sighs. “You are the Weyrleader,” he says, grudgingly. Father smiles, and in that moment he looks remarkably like Lan Wangji.

“I’m glad that you remember, brother,” he says, gently. “Come - let us hear what these Holderfolk have to say.”

* * * 

The first time the new riders fly against thread, Lan Xichen feels more like a mother hen than a Wingleader. He’s trained several cohorts of new riders since impressing Shuoyue himself, but this is his baby brother’s cohort, and even though Lan Zhan himself, as a Queen’s rider, is not permitted to fly against thread, apparently some of the protective impulses Lan Xichen feels towards his little brother have now spilled over onto the rest of Lan Zhan’s peer group.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he darts worried glances down towards the Greens.

There’s no favouritism involved in the fact that Meng Yao’s little dragon was assigned to Lan Xichen’s Wing. Xichen simply likes to keep an eye on the more vulnerable dragonriders, and although he has every confidence in Meng Yao’s courage and in his potential, the Green rider’s earlier experiences of bullying make Lan Xichen feel duty-bound to ensure that he’s supported properly. It feels like his responsibility, as the son of the Weyrleader.

In the back of Lan Xichen’s mind, as they dive and swoop and send bolts of flame scalding out into the rain of glittering silver-grey thread, Shuoyue gives the telepathic equivalent of an eye roll. 

Fine. 

He wants to keep Meng Yao safe.

* * * 

Lan Xichen had met Weyrleader Nie’s little brother before he impressed a Gusu Weyr Green, of course, and he’s noticed that the Green rider is quite often somewhere near Lan Zhan these days, as he’s one of Wei Wuxian’s inner circle of friends, but he is still somewhat surprised when Nie Huaisang takes it upon himself to slide into the empty space beside him in the dining hall. There are no strict rules about who eats where, especially when dragonriders are fresh from fighting thread, but in practice the younger riders rarely impose themselves upon the senior ones. Nevertheless Lan Xichen gives Nie Huaisang a warm smile of welcome; the Green rider did well today.

“Do you mind, Zewu Jun?” asks Nie Huaisang, peering at him quizzically through half-lowered lashes. Lan Xichen has a sudden sinking suspicion that he may be about to find himself receiving a proposition; it will not be the first time, if so, but he always finds it rather awkward. 

“Not at all,” he says, trying very hard to convey that he is offering nothing more intimate than a place on the bench beside him.

“Exercise always makes me ravenous,” says Nie Huaisang cheerfully. He gives a little laugh. “Not that I’ve ever been much of a one for getting sweaty and out of breath unless it’s in a very good cause, of course.” 

Is that a double entendre? Lan Xichen has never been remotely good at flirting. He is perfectly well disposed to Nie Mingjue’s little brother, but he is already wondering how swiftly he can wolf down his food and make a hasty exit, because this looks like it might develop into a somewhat embarrassing encounter if he isn’t careful. 

“I suppose that saving the planet counts as a good enough cause,” Nie Huaisang continues breezily as he plucks a meat roll from the platter. “But I was certainly glad to get clean again.” He darts a sidelong glance at Lan Xichen. “We’re very lucky here at Gusu to have both the ice pool and the steam rooms to choose from for our ablutions.”

Oh dear. Yes, Lan Xichen has a bad feeling about this conversation. He takes a bite of bread and wishes that he were better at this sort of thing. He should probably be flattered.

“I favour the steam rooms, myself, I must admit,” says Nie Huaisang, his mouth twitching as though at some private joke. “It’s, ah - quite a popular choice? But I think that you prefer the ice pool? Very stoic; very Lan.” Lan Xichen draws a breath to cut the conversation short before it can become truly unfortunate, but then - “I know that Meng Yao - you’ve met A Yao, I think? The Green rider who was picked out of the stands? He was an absolute godsend to my brother in Qinghe, he really has a genius for organisation and for problem solving - anyway, yes, A Yao is very fond of the steam rooms,” Nie Huaisang says, airily. 

Lan Xichen had frozen quite still at the mention of the other Green rider’s name; he’s horribly afraid that his face is giving him away.

Somewhere, in a distant corner of his mind, Shuoyue is laughing at him.

“Is he?” he says, in a stifled tone. Nie Huaisang isn’t looking at him, which is just as well because Lan Xichen is very much afraid that he might actually be blushing.

“Very fond, yes. But he’s a modest soul, and he encountered some rather unfortunate, ah, assumptions from a few of the newer dragonriders when we first arrived here?”

Lan Xichen sets his cup down rather too hard. “Is that…” he begins, but Nie Huaisang hurriedly cuts him off.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, Zewu Jun! You did a very thorough job of - ah - _reeducating_ them. As far as I know, he has not been on the receiving end of any more importunate attentions since you intervened.” He frowns. “...at least not in public. Hmm. Still, A Yao remains rather - wary?” Nie Huaisang glances around the dining hall. “I suspect he’s in the steam rooms now, in fact.” A perturbed expression crosses his face. “Although in truth he would probably be safer if he chose to use the steam rooms at the same time as a large group of people - there’s always safety in numbers, isn’t there? Difficult to get away with stepping out of line when you’re being watched. Whereas if he’s all alone...well.” 

Abruptly, Lan Xichen wants to punch someone. He glances around the dining hall; it occurs to him that he has not seen Su Minshan, and for a moment a wave of absolute fury crashes over him. 

“Excuse me, Nie Huaisang,” he says, rising to his feet. “I need to check on something.”

“Oh, don’t let me keep you!” says Nie Mingjue’s little brother, sunnily, but Lan Xichen is already rising from the table and gathering his things.


	6. Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Apparently stupid o’clock ambulance trips to A&E are our new mother-daughter weekend bonding thing? That’s TWICE in 8 days. Prayer circle for my 72 year old mother’s health to improve would be much appreciated; in the meanwhile my writing & rate of updates is liable to be a trifle slower than I had hoped...)

Returning to Yunmeng Weyr after a year should feel like coming home, but Jiang Cheng is acutely conscious that he has made himself into a stranger in his own birthplace. His white robes declare his new allegiance to Gusu Weyr, and as they pop out of Between and look down at the beautiful panorama of Lotus Pier spread out below, he finds himself noticing tiny changes that have taken place in his absence, as daily life has moved on without him, and it makes something ache in his chest. 

He doesn’t regret impressing Sandu; he could never regret that. But somewhere in the deepest recesses of his heart he does rather wish that Sandu could have somehow been a Yunmeng dragon.

 _”It is very beautiful,”_ agrees Sandu in his mind, his voice precious and familiar. _”But so much greenery!”_

Jiang Cheng smiles at the note of disapproval in his dragon’s mental ‘voice’.

“It’s a point of pride,” he says. “Dragons have been protecting Lotus Pier for centuries. Its beauty proclaims the strength of the Weyr.” 

Sandu is Gusu born and bred, and he has soaked up some of the strict attitudes of the Lan Clan, but Jiang Cheng will always feel his heart lightening at the sight of the bright stretch of lotus blooms turning the water around the Weyr into a tapestry of pink and green. It is ostentatious, by the standards of Gusu Weyr, a reckless display of wealth and confidence - but it is the living heart of Yunmeng, and a tangible symbol of their strength and courage, their determination to achieve the impossible. Jiang Cheng will always love this sight.

 _“Wei Ying says the same thing,”_ Sandu admits grudgingly. Jiang Cheng clamps down on the reflexive spasm of jealousy he feels whenever he’s reminded that Wei Wuxian can hear and speak with _all_ dragons, including his own. He loves his brother, but it does stick in his craw that even this most precious, private, glorious part of his life - his dragon - is something he has to share. 

_”He is not my rider,”_ says Sandu, wrapping Jiang Cheng in a wave of warmth and patience, because Jiang Cheng cannot hide anything from his dragon, not even this flash of churlish envy. Sandu knows his heart too well. Still, it’s impossible to cling on to resentment in the face of the unconditional love and fierce loyalty radiating as constant as bodyheat from the dragon beneath him. _”Wei Ying is simply a person I know. You are my **rider** , A Cheng.”_ The word is freighted with such tenderness and devotion that the last shreds of Jiang Cheng’s bitterness melt away like frost in the sunlight. There is no doubting Sandu’s sincerity: Jiang Cheng is the absolute centre of his world; Wei Wuxian is an acquaintance.

The sheepish laugh that tears out of his throat is carried away by the wind as they spiral down to land.

“Ah, Sandu, you are the very best of dragons,” he says, softly. “How do you put up with me?”

* * * 

Jiang Yanli is waiting for them in the landing grounds. Officially she is there to greet Lan Qiren, who is, as usual, representing the Gusu Weyrleader - but unofficially Jiang Cheng _knows_ she is there for him.

And, he acknowledges a little grudgingly, for Wei Wuxian, currently scrambling down from his ridiculously large black mount while chanting her name like a five year old full of sugar, rather than a fully grown adult with a responsible job.

Jiang Cheng sighs, and Sandu nudges him fondly with his wedge-shaped head as he dismounts in a more orderly fashion.

 _”Wei Ying will be Wei Ying,”_ murmurs Sandu in the back of Jiang Cheng’s mind. _”But **you** always bring honour to your Weyr.”_

Jiang Cheng stands up a little straighter at that, and manages not to roll his eyes as Wei Wuxian bounds across the paved ground, grabs Jiang Yanli around the waist and swings her around in a circle. Her bubbling laughter brings a smile to Jiang Cheng’s face in spite of himself, though; he does love them both.

“He really has all the diplomacy of a donkey, your brother,” murmurs Nie Huaisang fondly, stepping up beside Jiang Cheng while plucking one of his delicate painted fans from the depths of a sleeve. Jiang Cheng spares a sidelong glance at the Green rider; Nie Huaisang glances back, and although Jiang Cheng cannot see his smile behind the fan, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes gives him away before he returns his attention to the scene before them. “Still, I think not even Lan Qiren will punish him for loving his sister.”

Judging from the look on Lan Qiren’s face, Jiang Cheng isn’t entirely sure about that, but before Qiren can stride forward to say anything cutting Lan Wangji - of course - is closing a hand around his uncle’s arm and urgently whispering something in his ear, and Lan Qiren subsides.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t think that Wei Wuxian has any idea how often Lan Wangji intervenes on his behalf like this. 

At first Jiang Cheng had thought that his brother was intentionally flirting with the Second Jade of Lan, but he has come to the conclusion over the past year that Wei Wuxian doesn’t even realise that he’s made yet another conquest. Well - dozens of conquests, in truth, since Wei Wuxian’s easy smile and effortless charm has played predictable havoc with the hearts of half of Gusu Weyr, just as it did in Yunmeng Weyr - but most people seem to have eventually realised that Wei Wuxian is, in fact, oddly innocent, for all his flirtatious manner, and quite oblivious to the effect he has on others. 

Lan Wangji, God help him, seems to find this no deterrent at all. If anything, it seems to be an encouragement.

“A Xian, put me down!” Yanli is calling, guilty laughter brightening her voice. “I have to greet Senior Lan!”

“Oops,” says Wei Wuxian, lowering her to the ground. He glances over at Lan Qiren and pulls a rueful face then ducks back, bobbing a bow. Jiang Cheng closes his eyes in despair for a moment; for the life of him he still has no idea how to balance the desperate, protective love he feels for his brother with the bone-deep embarrassment he just as frequently experiences. 

“Wei Ying will be Wei Ying,” murmurs Nie Huaisang, in unconscious echo of Sandu, and Jiang Cheng is surprised into laughter.

“Wei Ying will be Wei Ying,” he agrees. 

“Now, tell me,” adds Nie Huaisang, leaning a little closer as Jiang Yanli formally welcomes Lan Qiren and the Gusu Weyr dragonriders on her parents’ behalf, “...is my hair utterly ruined from the journey?” He pulls the fan away from his face for a moment, then returns it with a neat snapping motion, his eyes fixed on Jiang Cheng’s. “Has the wind wrought havoc with my complexion?”

Jiang Cheng blinks. “No?” he says cautiously. “You look - uh. Normal?”

Nie Huaisang’s brows fly woefully up to his hairline and he lowers his fan. “Damned with faint praise!” he exclaims, his lower lip quivering perilously. 

“I mean - you look - fine?” Jiang Cheng tries again. 

“Fine? Or _fine_?” asks Nie Huaisang, his voice dipping into a suggestive purr that sends a shiver down Jiang Cheng’s spine. It occurs to him, very abruptly, that Nie Huaisang is flirting with him. Is Nie Huaisang flirting with him?

“Uh,” he says intelligently.

“Because I do so want to look my best,” Nie Huaisang adds, looking up through his lashes. “The riders of Yunmeng are all so dashing.”

“They are? Are they?” Jiang Cheng looks around uncertainly. He is very proud of the Weyr where he grew up, of course, but he had always rather been under the impression that it was Gusu Weyr that had the (deserved) reputation for exceptional beauty. When he glances back, Nie Huaisang is looking right at him, with a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, very,” says Nie Huaisang. He holds Jiang Cheng’s gaze a beat longer than he needs to, and Jiang Cheng feels his mouth going dry.

 _”He likes you,”_ Sandu observes helpfully, in the back of his mind.

“But…” Jiang Cheng thinks back, more a wave of flattered confusion and arousal than anything very coherent.

 _“You’re supposed to follow them, I think?”_ Sandu adds, and Jiang Cheng realises belatedly that the rest of the Gusu delegation surged forward, following Lan Qiren into the Weyr, leaving Jiang Yanli waiting in their wake and beaming at him.

“A Cheng, are you just going to stand there?” she asks, pouting a little, and he opens his arms.

“I’ll see you later,” Nie Huaisang says, from somewhere nearby, as Jiang Yanli and then Wei Wuxian wrap their arms around him and pull him in close, and all the months of Gusu Weyr abruptly melt away.

“I _missed_ you!” says Jiang Yanli into his shoulder, her voice wobbling perilously. Jiang Cheng wants to say the same thing back, but he can hear his mother’s voice in the back of his head, mocking him for being a clingy child, and the words catch in his throat.

“Shijie, A Cheng has been bullying me terribly,” says Wei Wuxian in a sorrowful little-boy voice, because he is a shameless liar whose stupid hair is getting in Jiang Cheng’s mouth. 

“I have not!”

Jiang Yanli’s breathing is uneven, huffing between laughter and tears; embarrassingly Jiang Cheng feels a little like crying himself. 

“A Queen egg!” says Wei Wuxian at last, untangling himself a little and stepping back to look at his sister. “Madam Yu must be so proud.”

“Oh, you know she is,” agrees Yanli, half-laughing. Her face is so dear; Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how he has gone nearly twelve months without seeing her smile. He squeezes her a little more tightly before stepping back and holding her at arm’s length, looking her up and down.

“You look every inch the future Weyrwoman,” he says, and she rolls her eyes, blushing.

“Don’t!” She’s still smiling, more or less, but it occurs to Jiang Cheng a little belatedly that their Mother will be absolutely unbearable if Jiang Yanli fails to impress the little Queen when she hatches. 

“How many in the clutch?” he asks, and her face brightens at the change of topic. 

“Fourteen,” she says. “Five of them look big enough to be Bronzes.”

“Five!” exclaims Wei Wuxian, sounding appropriately impressed.

“I can’t believe how grown up your dragons are already!” she says, wide eyed, staring up at Sandu and Suibian. Jiang Cheng smiles helplessly, pride flooding his chest. Sandu is already bigger than almost all the adult Blues in Gusu and some of the Browns too. Of course he realises that he is biased, but there’s no denying that Sandu is an exceptionally fine dragon. The sort of dragon who might quite possibly fly a Queen, one day.

...Suibian is bigger, of course. Suibian is already as big as Bichen, in fact; it’s possible that he’s hit an early grown spurt, and will slow down while Bichen continues to her grow to her full size, but nobody has ever seen a Black dragon before, and Wei Wuxian has never done anything by halves. Jiang Cheng would not be surprised if the Black dragon ends up _bigger_ than a Queen.

“They’re both so beautiful,” says Jiang Yanli, looking up at the two dragonets, who are both palpably preening under her attention. “They’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” says Wei Wuxian, his expression soft, and although Jiang Yanli rolls her eyes and makes a dismissive gesture, Jiang Cheng thinks he’s perfectly right. 

“Come on,” she says, glancing guiltily over at the vanishing white shapes of the Gusu Weyr delegation in the distance. “We’ll be late, and Mother will never let me hear the end of it.”

Jiang Cheng swallows. She isn’t wrong.

“Race you!” says Wei Wuxian, because of course he does - and they’re off, dignity abandoned, breathlessly laughing like the children they once were.

* * * 

The celebratory banquet that night is one of the grandest that Jiang Cheng can recall at Lotus Pier. It’s an honour to have been included in the Gusu Weyr delegation, but it feels decidedly strange to sit with the white-clad dragonriders, far away from Father and Mother and Jiang Yanli, resplendent in their various shades of purple and lilac. He catches Nie Huaisang shooting wistful glances over at his brother and the rest of the Qinghe delegation, and is comforted by the thought that he isn’t the only person who feels a little out of place.

Mother is positively glowing, although she still barely looks at Father throughout the feast. Sometimes, when he was younger, Jiang Cheng wondered whether it would be better if one of the other Bronzes successfully flew the Yunmeng Queen and became Weyrleader in Father’s place, but it isn’t as though Mother has ever shown any particular fondness for any of the other Bronze riders in the Weyr. The two of them are very good at running Lotus Pier, and their dragons are thoroughly devoted to one another, but Mother...well, she couldn’t really be so angry with Jiang Fengmian if she didn’t care about him at all, surely?

He sighs. Some things never change, it seems.

“My goodness, you do like to make things hot here in Yunmeng, don’t you?” says Nie Huaisang, fanning himself extravagantly. Jiang Cheng glances down at the dish before him and smiles.

“We prefer our food spicy,” he agrees with an apologetic shrug.

“That too,” says Nie Huaisang, eyes primly downcast as he picks at his rice.

* * * 

The Harper has a crush on Wei Wuxian. At first Jiang Cheng was slightly irritated that the nervous looking little Wen Harper has apparently written an entire song about the miraculous Black dragon and his rider, but after a while amusement begins to outweigh jealousy. The boy is clearly absolutely head over heels, and Wei Wuxian is just as clearly oblivious: he’s delighted on Suibian’s behalf, of course, and beaming brighter than all the lamps in the courtyard, but if the little Harper imagines for a moment that this is going to translate into furtive embraces in a store cupboard or a back room somewhere, he’s very far off the mark.

“Another one,” murmurs Nie Huaisang, echoing Jiang Cheng’s thoughts. “He does rather collect admirers, our dear Wei Ying, doesn’t he?”

Jiang Cheng snorts.

“One could become quite bitter about it, if the poor lamb had the faintest idea of the effect he has,” the Green rider adds, before taking a dainty sip from his wine cup, sleeves modestly shielding his mouth.

“How can he be so oblivious?” demands Jiang Cheng, shaking his head helplessly as he watches both the Harper _and_ the Second Jade of Lan visibly pining over his idiot brother.

“Is there perhaps something in the water here at Lotus Pier?” asks Nie Huaisang mildly.

That’s a silly question. If that were the case, Jiang Cheng would be just as oblivious as Wei Wuxian. 

“Madam Yu doesn’t seem very charmed by the song, does she?” adds Nie Huaisang, a moment later. 

Jiang Cheng winces. “If he thought that flattering Wei Wuxian would be a good way of flattering Mother...well, somebody really should have had a word with him,” he says, feeling almost sorry for the Harper. Mother looks like she’s just bitten into a soup dumpling and found it full of vinegar.

Nie Huaisang pulls a face. “Family,” he says, with a knowing sigh. 

“Family,” agrees Jiang Cheng, with feeling.

* * *

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling the moment that Wen Chao stands up, many jars of wine later. The Qishan Weyr delegation have been eating and drinking like kings, muttering loud complaints about the quality of the food and drink and demanding particular Qishan delicacies in place of the Yunmeng dishes they have been served. For all that he is technically a Gusu dragonrider now, Jiang Cheng feels about ready to start a fight with the lot of them. He watches Wen Chao rise to his feet and tries to quell the impulse to knock the man down.

“We are gathered here to celebrate the fine clutch produced by the Yunmeng Queen,” says Wen Chao, lifting his cup of wine. Mother grants him a gracious nod, and only someone who knows her very well will realise how insincere her fixed smile is. It grows more fixed as he continues. “...But I have an announcement to make. Our Qishan Queen has also recently risen, and been delivered of a clutch of _sixteen_ fine strong eggs - among them a Gold.”

Surprised cheers and congratulations ring out through the banqueting hall at this announcement; Jiang Cheng is aware of Nie Huaisang growing very still beside him. The little Harper, who is directly in Jiang Cheng’s line of sight, looks as astonished as anyone else in the room, even though he’s a Wen himself; indeed, if anything, he looks _more_ surprised than those around him.

“We have decided not to make a great show of the event,” Wen Chao continues. “There’s something rather pretentious about gathering others around to celebrate a clutch before the Hatching, don’t you agree? One doesn’t want to count the dragonets before the eggs hatch, after all.”

Jiang Cheng feels his jaw drop. “Did he just…” he says.

“Yes, yes, he’s very crass - we know that already,” says Nie Huaisang. “But he’s also lying.”

Jiang Cheng turns to stare at Nie Huaisang. “What?”

“He’s lying. She’s old and sickly, and I have it on very good authority that she clutched only a handful of eggs, and small ones at that. Definitely no golds.”

“You knew about this?”

Nie Huaisang shrugs, his eyes still fixed on Wen Chao. “I know people,” he says, as if this is obvious. “I like to be in the loop. And he’s lying. Why is he lying about something like this? It buys them a little time to cling onto control of the Weyr, if their Queen is as close to death as I’ve heard, but it’s a stupid lie. Easily disproven.” He bites his lip. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”


End file.
